


Black Eye

by lavenderlotion



Series: Ficlets for: 'Drabble Challenge: 1-150' [17]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Protective Sheriff Stilinski
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-18
Updated: 2018-04-18
Packaged: 2019-04-24 15:00:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14357889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lavenderlotion/pseuds/lavenderlotion
Summary: For the prompt: "Who gave you that black eye?"





	Black Eye

**Author's Note:**

  * For [What_The_Hell](https://archiveofourown.org/users/What_The_Hell/gifts).



Stiles was worried. Okay, he was maybe a little more than worried, but he was trying his best to keep his cool. By keep his cool, he meant pacing back and forth in their living room, just barely holding himself back from chewing on his thumbnails. Chris was supposed to be back half an hour ago, and while his husband taking too long at the grocery store shouldn’t be fear inducing—they lived in Beacon Hills.

Peter didn’t seem to care. He was sitting in his armchair, book laid open in his lap, not a fear in the world. Stiles had no idea how he could be so calm during such a distressing time, but if anything, Peter seemed  _ amused _ at Stiles’ worry, and it was just making him more upset. Stiles didn’t think he was overreacting, though. They had all seen too much evil, too much death, for him to be overreacting. 

By the time Stiles heard Chris’ van pull up into the driveway, he was ready to… to do  _ something _ . His stomach was knotted with nerves and he wanted nothing more than to rush out to the car and make sure Chris was okay—because it was one thing to be running late from the store, and another thing to be late at the store and  _ not call them _ . 

But he waited, standing next to the arm of Peter’s chair with his arms crossed over his chest. Peter was doing a horrible job at showing a unified front, and hadn’t even closed his book. Stiles would have been annoyed about that, if he wasn’t already so mad at Chris. 

“Where the hell were you!” Stiles called as soon as the door opened, and he tried to keep the panic out of his voice, to replace it with anger. 

His anger melted away when Chris walked into the living. Stiles rushed forward, gently grabbing at Chris’ face and turning his head to the side, so he could better look at the darkening bruise. Chris made a small noise when Stiles gently thumbed over the skin and Stiles’ heart ached at seeing his husband in pain.

“Who gave you that black eye?” Peter asked from behind Stiles, but he didn’t take his eyes off Chris.

Chris rolled his eyes, and the look he sent Peter was one that made Stiles uncomfortable. It was a look that Stiles himself was familiar with. It meant little more than  _ ‘you already know the answer to that so why are you asking’ _ , and Stiles didn’t like that he was the only one who had no idea what the answer could have been.

“Hey, who was it?” Stiles asked, settling his hands on Chris’ shoulders so the man would look back at him.

“It doesn’t matter, sweetheart,” Chris said, his voice a low rumble and Stiles frowned again. They didn’t keep secrets, and there is no reason that Chris would be. No reason that Stiles would like, at least.

“If you want my guess,” Peter drawled, and Stiles nodded. “it was either your best friend, or your father.”

Stiles goes to open his mouth to tell Peter that he’s wrong, that of course he’s wrong, but the look of Chris’ face is enough to confirm what Peter said. Stiles had no idea what to say to that, and he swayed in place, blinking heavily in surprise. 

“Which one?” Stiles asked, voice whisper-quiet and Peter pressed up against his back, wrapped an arm around his waist.

“It was your dad,” Stiles was glad for the support that Peter’s hold provided, especially as the lights in their house flickered with the angry spike in his magic.

“It’s not a big deal,” Chris said, stepping forward so he could box Stiles in, wrapping his arms around both of them

“It is! You’re my husband's, and I don’t understand why my family  _ still _ hasn’t accepted that, but I’m going to talk to them, and if they still don't accept that—well, we have enough money to move,” Stiles told them, linking his fingers together behind Chris’ neck to tug the man closer.

“Technically, we aren’t married,” Peter said though he sucked at the place where Stiles’ neck met his shoulder—the same place that has had a bruise shaped like Peter’s mouth since they first got together, the same place that Chris has one, too.

“Oh shut up, Peter. We own a house together, we have a joint bank account, we wear rings. I’m going to call you two my husbands whether it’s legal or not,” Stiles said with a pout, wrapping his arms around Chris’ middle as he leaned further into Peter, trusting the man to hold him up.

“We’re talking about this later,” Stiles told them, but he moaned when Peter bit at his neck. He had no idea  _ how _ he was going to deal with his family, but right now he had… bigger, things to worry about.

**Author's Note:**

> two prompts in a row titled as injuries. huh? Stetopher is still (and may always be) one of my favourite pairings to write, and they always feel like an old friend.
> 
> fun fact: i am doing a fic giveaway celebrating 400 followers on tumblr (and less so 400 AO3 subscribers, and hitting a 400k word count in 12.5 months), where i am giving away 4, 400 word drabbles. the [tumblr post](https://lavender-lotion.tumblr.com/post/173059947254/lavenderlotions-400-follower-fic-give-away) has more information about that!


End file.
